The General furnished McHenry with names of officers for the General Staff and of “prominent characters” from which to select field officers. The three at the head of the list, Washington knew, would present the larger difficulty. At the top was Hamilton, Inspector General with the rank of Major General. Next came Charles Cotesworth Pinckney and Henry Knox, Major Generals also. The order was all-important. However firmly Washington might favor the position next his own for Hamilton, the question of relative rank had to be weighed carefully. Knox had seniority. He had also Washington’s “love and esteem.” Nor could the first President forget that Knox had been the first Secretary of War. Personal affection, however, did not alter the conviction that Knox was not the proper choice for second in command of the Army of 1798. Actually, Washington concluded, Knox should rank after Pinckney. Whether the “spirited, active and judicious” Pinckney would accept position below that of Hamilton was a definite doubt in Washington’s mind. The South Carolinian’s reputation, already high militarily, had been exalted by his conduct in France. He had the further advantage of seniority over Hamilton. Pinckney’s connections were numerous and his influence powerful; to invite discontent among his large following might be to invite danger. In any event, Washington recommended Hamilton, Pinckney, Knox, in that order—unless among themselves these officers agreed to an altered arrangement. The decision had not been easy, but now it was determined, Washington assumed it would stand, certainly so far as the President was concerned.
Should a replacement be required for Hamilton, Knox or Pinckney, Washington suggested Henry Lee be designated Major General, otherwise that he rank as Brigadier. John Brooks of Massachusetts, William S. Smith of New York, or John E. Howard of Maryland, also were proposed as Brigadiers. Jonathan Dayton, Jr., from New Jersey, was Washington’s choice for Adjutant General, and Edward Carrington, Virginian, for Quartermaster General. As Director of the Hospital, he put down James Craik, for whom, in Washington’s opinion, there was no substitute.
Most of the two and a half days of McHenry’s stay at Mount Vernon were spent in seclusion as he and Washington weighed military positions and personalities. When McHenry departed on July 14 he carried a letter to the President. In it Washington repeated his reluctance to reenter public life, reviewed the deplorable conduct of France, and commended the “wise and prudent measures of the administration.” Most important were these words: “I have determined to accept the Commission. . . .” On July 18 a copy of Washington’s letter of acceptance was transmitted to the Senate by President Adams. The official communication, immediately and widely published, was received with high satisfaction.
By the end of July the patriot-planter found his correspondence increasingly crowded with applications, introductions and recommendations. The first of at least a dozen to seek membership in Washington’s military family was John Marshall’s brother, James. Other would-be aides-de-camp, whose names might have stirred Washington’s memories of Revolutionary years were Charles Carroll, Jr., Thomas Cadwalader and Thomas Nelson, Jr. The General explained to one and all his resolve to postpone selection until he was called into the field.
If the pay of a secretary was allowable, Washington had need of someone promptly. That someone he wished to be Lear, whose “abilities, prudence and integrity” had been proved by fourteen years of close association. As soon as presidential authority was received, Washington urged Lear to take up the station at once. The invaluable secretary resumed his Mount Vernon residence none too soon. On August 18 Washington was seized with an ague. He ignored it at first and pursued his usual rides and occupations, but after two days he yielded to a fever that did not break for a week. For a time the illness alarmed his family and friends. The General was greatly debilitated and convalescence seemed slow; a loss of twenty pounds made the ravages of his illness marked.
Washington was buoyed in spirit by the prospect of a visit from John Marshall and Bushrod Washington, whom he had invited to Mount Vernon. The General had written his nephew: “The crisis is important. The temper of the people of this State in many (at least in some) places, are so violent and outrageous, that I wish to converse with General Marshall and yourself on the elections which must soon come.” The travelers arrived in time for breakfast September 3. During the three days that followed, the General pressed Marshall to run for Congress as a Federalist candidate. At length the Virginian consented.
On September 3, probably before Marshall and Bushrod arrived, the General had written at length to the Secretary of War on various matters of military importance. At the close of the letter he said: “If any change should take place in settling the relative rank of the Major Generals, I shall hope and expect to be informed of it.” From McHenry’s “confidential and private” letter of August 25 Washington had observed that the President’s idea of relative rank was not in accord with his, though Adams had presented the names to the Senate in the order submitted. Almost immediately afterward Adams had left Philadelphia and wrote later from Quincy his altered opinion: the only satisfactory arrangement would be Knox, Pinckney, Hamilton. Knox deserved it, was legally entitled to it. “You may depend upon it,” the President cautioned McHenry, “the five New England States will not patiently submit to the humiliation that has been meditated for them.”
These words were those of Knox also, one of the arguments he had set forth in a bitter communication of July 29 directed to Mount Vernon. Knox questioned the high estimation of Hamilton and hinted that Washington had been misled on behalf of the New Yorker. Finally he had said that “unless the relative rank of the late war should govern according to the established and invariable usage of the former war,” which he believed to be in line with past principles and military law, he must decline appointment. Washington was disquieted by Knox’s observations. On August 9 the Commander-in-Chief endeavored to explain and defend what had been done, though nothing he could say to Knox, he feared, would compensate for lack of precedence over Hamilton and Pinckney. As for a reference by Knox to the inconstancy of his friendship, Washington said: “I will pronounce with decision that it ever has been, still is, and notwithstanding the unkindness of the charge, ever will be . . . warm and sincere.” The unexpected nature of his own appointment and the impropriety of any action on his part before the general officers were nominated, he added, had made consultation with Knox out of the question. In justification of Hamilton’s precedence, Washington went on to say: “. . . from information I had no cause to distrust, no doubt remained on my mind that Colonel Hamilton was designated second in command—and first if I should decline acceptance—by the Federal characters of Congress, whence alone anything like a public sentiment relative thereto, could be deduced.” Besides this evidence, Washington listed five other factors that contributed to the decision. Nor did Washington believe any of the efforts in Hamilton’s behalf were intrigue. Whether these explanations would mollify Knox, the General could not guess, but his own satisfaction lay in the “utmost sincerity and frankness of heart” with which he had disclosed his thoughts.
If he was not reconciled militarily, Knox was softened in his personal attitude towards Washington. In his answering letter of August 26 he said that he had ascertained to his satisfaction how Washington had determined upon “the transcendent military talents of General Hamilton,” and admitted “the opinions formed on that head may be entirely accurate.” His most pleasing gesture was the expressed wish to serve as Washington’s aide-de-camp in event of invasion. None would be more welcome in his military family, the Commander-in-Chief replied, provided he could come without rancor, but Washington continued to hope that Knox might yet accept his commission as Major General.
President Adams, meanwhile, had warmed increasingly to Knox’s cause. With Adams at Quincy and Washington at Mount Vernon, understanding was not easily reached. The President had Constitutional authority in this question, Adams reminded McHenry, and in his letter of August 29 reiterated that the order would stand—Knox, Pinckney, Hamilton. Th
oroughly apprehensive of the situation, McHenry confided to Washington that he had laid the whole of his correspondence with the President before Wolcott, Pickering and Secretary of the Navy Benjamin Stoddert. A respectful protest to the President was considered imperative. Wolcott was designated to write the letter. This he did on September 17, and two days later McHenry reviewed the entire affair in a communication to Mount Vernon.
Now that the President knew the Commander-in-Chief had been apprised of developments, Washington could set forth his own views to Adams without betraying McHenry’s confidences. Such a letter as the General prepared on September 25 never would have come from the pen of planter and proprietor. Whereas deference still was due the President, the Commander-in-Chief had certain perquisites also. He had no wish to increase his own powers or diminish those of the President, Washington carefully explained, but the terms of his acceptance—declared after his appointment because he had no opportunity of declaring them before—were explicit. He had retained the commission in the belief that his conditions would be met. Yet, changes in the general staff had been determined upon and others contemplated without intimation to the Commander-in-Chief. “In the arrangement made by me with the Secretary of War,” Washington wrote, “the three Major Generals stood, Hamilton, Pinckney, Knox; and in this order I expected their commissions would have been dated. But you have been pleased to order the last to be first, and the first to be last. . . .” Washington asked, “if no regard was intended to be had to the order of my arrangement, why was it not altered before it was submitted to the Senate?” In nothing did Washington equivocate, least of all concerning the two most conspicuous personalities. Of Hamilton he said: “That he is ambitious I shall readily grant, but it is of that laudable kind which prompts a man to excel in whatever he takes in hand. He is enterprising, quick in his perceptions, and his judgment is intuitively great; qualities essential to a military character and therefore I repeat that his loss will be irreparable.” Then his comment on Knox: “. . . I can say with truth, there is no man with whom I have been in habits of greater intimacy; no one whom I loved more sincerely, nor any for whom I have had a greater friendship. But esteem, love and friendship can have no influence in my mind when . . . possibly, our all is at stake.” Lengthy though the letter was, Washington had one more compelling point to make: In over two months there had been no recruiting and now the spirit of the people noticeably was lagging.
There could have been no doubt in Adams’ mind that he must say at once how matters stood. On October 9 he answered the letter that had come from Mount Vernon the day before. Wolcott’s forceful communication of September 17 had probably conditioned him for the concession he was called upon to make. Already, the President wrote Washington, he had signed and dated commissions for the three Major Generals on the same day. Should controversies as to rank arise, they would be submitted to the Commander-in-Chief, Adams added, whose judgment he was resolved to confirm.
On October 15 the General had the satisfaction of reading in the gazettes that Pinckney, his wife and daughter had arrived at New York. Washington promptly wrote the returned envoy a warm invitation for the family to visit at Mount Vernon whenever they passed through Virginia on the way to Charleston. Relieved of his apprehension for Pinckney’s safety, there came immediately to Washington’s mind apprehension of another sort. “I hope,” Washington wrote Pickering, “he will not play the second part of the difficulty created by General Knox.”
Pickering had recalled Gerry in unequivocal terms under date of June 25, but by the time the lagging envoy left Paris he had been buffeted about by Talleyrand for three months and more. Although the New Englander believed himself favored of the French Minister, Talleyrand displayed no more respect or consideration for him than he had for his colleagues. By mid-July the dispatches of the American envoys had been published and widely distributed in England and on the continent. The prevailing reaction was sympathy with the United States. Talleyrand demanded that Gerry deny these disclosures and brazenly declared that demands for redress for Adams’ speech or for money never had been made. Then Talleyrand called on Gerry to communicate to him the names of those persons designated in the dispatches as W, X, Y, and Z. In absurd acquiescence, Gerry complied, as if he had not known that they were the chosen tools of Talleyrand.
The effect of the X Y Z dispatches on the majority of Americans had eased the way for Federalists in Congress. Proper measures for defence—a new army, a first navy, and taxes for their establishment and support—had been legislated with little difficulty. Only a declaration of war was lacking as a guarantee of unanimity. It was the opinion of the more ardent administration enthusiasts that since France had not proclaimed it, Congress should have done so. George Cabot proclaimed that “war, open and declared would not only deprive our external enemy of his best hopes, but would also extinguish the hopes of our internal foes.” Towards this end, therefore, measures were sought with a zeal that rivalled that for soldiers and ships.
Federalists, pleased and overconfident in their new popularity, took the offensive and chose as their weapons a Naturalization Bill and Alien and Sedition Laws. The Naturalization Bill prescribed a residence of fourteen years instead of five before application for citizenship. The second measure invested the President with authority to remove enemy aliens in event of war or threatened invasion and with arbitrary powers to deport aliens suspected of “treasonable or secret machination against the government.” The Sedition Act was designed to suppress written, printed, published or spoken expressions of a “false, scandalous and malicious” nature against government or anyone associated with government.
Immediately and most conveniently, these measures became, in Washington’s words, “the desiderata in the opposition”—the ideal Republican restorative. Doubtless the General was correct in his assertion that the “Jacobins” would have clamored on some other account had this one not been offered, but they scarcely could have contrived to do better for themselves than the Federalists had done for them. When the Alien bill was scarcely more than an idea, Hamilton deprecated it as a dangerous move, but the admonition went unheeded.
Washington believed the measures justifiable. The knowledge that objectors to the government were persistent and numerous in his own State of Virginia was exceedingly painful to him. Protection must be provided against aliens who acknowledged no allegiance to the United States and “in many instances are sent among us . . . for the express purpose of poisoning the minds of our people and to sow dissensions among them . . thereby endeavoring to dissolve the Union.” No true American need fear the laws; only Jacobins and disloyal persons would be affected. Where Jefferson saw monarchical intent, Washington saw simply an effort towards stronger national unity.
It remained for Virginia to display the most serious disaffection and administer the most severe rebuke to the national government. Although the Assembly of Kentucky was the first to act officially, Washington knew beyond doubt that the motivating influence was that of Virginians; that the Vice President was subtly at work in close collaboration with the brilliant Madison. Kentucky, in a legislative action of November 16, anticipated by more than a month adoption of similar measures by its sister State. The Kentucky Resolutions and those of Virginia denounced the Alien and Sedition Acts as the exercise of unconstitutional powers. What could there be but potential dissolution of national government, thought Washington, in the declaration that the compact among the States had been violated, that the States “have the right . . . to interpose for arresting the progress of the evil, and for maintaining, within their respective limits, the authorities, rights and liberties appertaining to them”? Furthermore, the Virginia Assembly appealed to other States to take “necessary and proper measures” to protect their rights and liberties. The General wrote Henry that Kentucky alone had countenanced Virginia’s action. Where right-minded men would not exert themselves singly against the “torrent that carries away others” they would embark against it with “an able p
ilot to conduct them.” Henry would be just such a pilot. Although the week before Washington wrote his letter, Henry had declared himself “too old and infirm ever again to undertake public concerns” he answered that he would consent to be a candidate for the Virginia Assembly. In so doing, Henry, now in his sixty-third year, allied himself unequivocally and finally with Washington and the Federalist cause.
In early August another foe than France had threatened Americans—Federalists and Republicans alike. Yellow fever made its third invasion in five years, and its worst. Newspapers and letters brought to Mount Vernon the “extremely painful” accounts of its spread in the North. Phila-delphians lost no time in capitulation to the mysterious enemy, and within the month business there virtually ended. Taverns and markets closed; government offices moved to Trenton, and other public offices joined them there or went to Germantown. Federalists believed the ill wind had brought at least one blessing in the death of Benjamin F. Bache. An arch enemy and an able one was silenced. Republicans had similar satisfaction in the death of John Fenno. By the end of October, when the malady retreated before the frosts, death had taken almost 3700 of those who stayed in the stricken city, but most of the 40,000 who had fled were flocking back into Philadelphia.
Neither the pathological fever that had racked him nor the more persistent “French fever” could diminish for long Washington’s activity on behalf of the Federal City. The city a century hence, he predicted, would become a capital “though not as large as London, yet of a magnitude inferior to few others in Europe.” Continuance of public building was assured, at least for a time, by a loan voted by Congress. Although Washington urged that private building parallel public construction, his own enterprise there had been delayed because of demands at Mount Vernon. By September 20 he felt well enough to spend two days in the Federal City for the purpose of settling upon a location for two houses. Washington had calculated that $8000—at the most, $10,000—would cover the aggregate cost, but the appraisal was higher and Washington thought it excessive. He was back in the city for three days in October. After considerable consultation and correspondence, the price was fixed at $11,250, exclusive of painting, glazing and ironwork. The General was pleased that this enterprise, undertaken “more with a view to promote the necessary improvements in the City, than for any expectation of private emolument,” was under way. In further accord with his enthusiasm, on October 24 Washington bought five shares “toward building a hotel in the City of Washington.”
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